


Fragments

by Snowcenti



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst, Dad Schlatt, Dream Smp, Dungeons and Dragons, Gen, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, No shipping, Other, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sleepy Bois Inc as Family, Villain Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), all events same but altered for a dnd setting, did I mention dad Schlatt, everyone gets funky cool first names pog, will add more tags later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:09:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28189752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snowcenti/pseuds/Snowcenti
Summary: As the Minsot family reconnects out in the freezing arctic, Dream, god of a powerful artifact deemed The Wither's Heart begins to hunt down brothers Talbot "Techno" and Torrian "Tommy" Minsot for their 'crimes' against him while simultaneously reeking havoc within the brothers home country of L'Manburg.The Minsot brothers and their peers have trained for years in their own individual skills, but are they really ready to face against the divine patron that keeps their world afloat?
Relationships: ALL PLATONIC, Dave | Technoblade & Toby Smith | Tubbo & Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, Dave | Technoblade & TommyInnit & Wilbur Soot & Phil Watson, Family Dynamic - Relationship, Floris | Fundy & Phil Watson, Floris | Fundy & Wilbur Soot, Jschlatt & Toby Smith | Tubbo, Jschlatt & Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, No Romantic Relationship(s), Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson
Kudos: 4





	1. [ONE] Spools of Thread

**Author's Note:**

> I literally wrote this in English class instead of doing my final WHOOPS 
> 
> I personally think this first chapter is boring as hell but I promise chapter 2 is so so spicy so if you're reading this please at least try and stick around until them. Hope I see you all again as I continue to publish new chapters, you beautiful readers!

cAs a long red cloak slipped through the beams, a sliver of said fabric clung against the beam, holding back the creature who slunk through the night. With a small bark of terror, the creature whipped around and tugged on the back of his cloak. Freeing it from the beam he dashed away, leaving the blood-red sliver held onto a rusty nail by the edge of its fraying threads. He slipped through the crack of the open window onto the top floor of a familiar little house. A view of the water below could be seen through a window on the floor below him, the rest of the view being blocked by a carved-out wall of stone. The familiar air of the little house on stilts made him feel safe and at home. 

“I thought your brother was supposed to be the rouge?” spoke a mocking voice from below 

He held a bare palm towards the blonde-haired man below him as he rested his other hand against his knee, taking in a deep breath. As the creature stabilized his feet, the man below closed the book he was reading and set it to teeter on the edge of a small wooden table. 

“When are you coming home?” The creature raspily growled out through his shallow breathing. 

At this, the man below quickly jumped up from his dark purple armchair. Quickly throwing on a striped green hat and a pair of brownish-black fingerless leather-gloved he headed towards the stairs. 

“C’mere” His tone was worried and soft

“Da-”

“Come here.” The blonde man repeated again. The creature began to move forward; down the stairs and onto the ground floor of the little house. Blots of blood dripped from the creature’s mouth as he let out a dry bark of a cough

Rummaging through a large wooden chest began as the pig-man approached closer. Through the clings and clangs of metal, stone, and wood, the short blonde man fetched a worn down roll of fabric bandaging. 

“Sit down, Tal”  
“You know I don't go by that anymore Phil”  
“Sorry”

Phil’s eyes spoke more than the word sorry did as he made eye contact with his youngest son. Beckoning for the tall creature to sit down, he also beckoned for the pigman to raise his arms and remove the cuffs of leather and already worn bandages that wrapped around his wrists and up to his muscular arms. 

“You didn’t answer my question”   
“Why do you want me home Techno?”

As a long red cloak slipped through the beams, a sliver of said fabric clung against the beam, holding back the creature who slunk through the night. With a small bark of terror, the creature whipped around and tugged on the back of his cloak. Freeing it from the beam he dashed away, leaving the blood-red sliver held onto a rusty nail by the edge of its fraying threads. He slipped through the crack of the open window onto the top floor of a familiar little house. A view of the water below could be seen through a window on the floor below him, the rest of the view being blocked by a carved-out wall of stone. The familiar air of the little house on stilts made him feel safe and at home. 

“I thought your brother was supposed to be the rouge?” spoke a mocking voice from below 

He held a bare palm towards the blonde-haired man below him as he rested his other hand against his knee, taking in a deep breath. As the creature stabilized his feet, the man below closed the book he was reading and set it to teeter on the edge of a small wooden table. 

“When are you coming home?” The creature raspily growled out through his shallow breathing. 

At this, the man below quickly jumped up from his dark purple armchair. Quickly throwing on a striped green hat and a pair of brownish-black fingerless leather-gloved he headed towards the stairs. 

“C’mere” His tone was worried and soft

“Da-”

“Come here.” The blonde man repeated again. The creature began to move forward; down the stairs and onto the ground floor of the little house. Blots of blood dripped from the creature’s mouth as he let out a dry bark of a cough

Rummaging through a large wooden chest began as the pig-man approached closer. Through the clings and clangs of metal, stone, and wood, the short blonde man fetched a worn down roll of fabric bandaging. 

“Sit down, Tal”  
“You know I don't go by that anymore Phil”  
“Sorry”

Phil’s eyes spoke more than the word sorry did as he made eye contact with his youngest son. Beckoning for the tall creature to sit down, he also beckoned for the pigman to raise his arms and remove the cuffs of leather and already worn bandages that wrapped around his wrists and up to his muscular arms. 

“You didn’t answer my question”   
“Why do you want me home Techno?”

The pig-man, Techno Blade, averted his eyes from his father. That was a complex question. He always wanted Phil to be home, and despite always seeming like a lone wolf Techno truly loved his father and the comforting presence the man brought to the secluded cottage Techno called home. That wasn’t it this time however, this time the answer was influenced by another force. In Techno’s cottage sat one Torrian Minsot, the youngest of the Minsot brothers. His torn clothes and dirty hair covered by a scratchy brown blanket Techno managed to rummage up from the top shelf of an old cabinet. 

“Tommy’s been living in a hole under my floorboards”

Phil looked up from his word, eyes narrowed “Whot?”

The silence that followed was overwhelming, and Technoblade jerked his right arm back towards him mid-wrap. He stood from the armchair and his father did the same, the pig creature’s almost seven-foot-tall statue loomed over the much shorter man. 

The city was beautiful during the night, but the sunset was always Techno’s favorite. The water below the long wooden floorboards and pillars holding up the city sparkled between the cracks in between the planks, the sun hitting them in such a way they would be blinding if any more beautiful. Planks of spruce and oak trees were built up into stalls for market workers to sell goods, houses were built against the back of the old wall, and up a small hill and a set of stairs sat the presidential podium, the great crane, and the homes of the Cabinet members. Techno knew this place more than he could put into words. He had never even lived in the city before, but sneaking around a dictator's empire during the middle of war helped him gain an understanding of the land; even though half of it had been turned into a crater by the end of the war. 

From the city came music. Techno couldn't see the figures of where it came from, but he already knew from who it would originate. He was right of course, the calm strumming of the guitar and the hushed vocals came from Wilbur’s Music Stall. The strumming was from Niki, a family friend of the Minsot brothers. The vocals came from a mixture of her and Wilbur Minsot, Techno’s twin brothers, and the man who turned this beautiful city into a crater those many months ago. 

Techno walked in front of his father, his footsteps quiet and movements slow as he led Phil away from the city and out into the forest. They walked in the quiet for a long time, the only sound the two heard being the occasional caw of a flying bird or a twig snapping under the weight of Phil’s boots. Ahead of them on the shore of the land was a small oak boat, with two worn down paddle’s sticking the boat into the sand. Phil finally broke the silence between them. 

“Do you want me to row?” He asked.

Techno shook his head at the question “I’ll do it” 

The pig-man picked both the paddles out of the sand with one fist, and lightly kicked the boat into the shallow water. He held out a free hand splayed towards the boat, and Phil followed his son’s silent command to enter the boat. Rocking to one side, Phil managed to struggle into the small boat and Techno followed behind. Stabilizing his body with one of the paddles, Techno managed to step onto the boat’s front seat one foot at a time and then move his feet to the floor. Once in the boat Techno pulled the paddle in and set them up to begin rowing out towards the snowy arctic. 

Another silence formed between the two, before once again being broken by Phil. 

“Are you afraid?”  
“What?”

The question didn't make sense in Techno’s mind. He was never afraid, or at least he wasn't as far as he knew. Techno stopped paddling, turning his head to look an eye into Phil’s. 

“Of Dream?”

That question made sense. It was an honest question, and it wasn't surprising that Phil was curious after seeing Techno today. 

“No... no no no. He doesn't scare me. He can do what he wants to me, I’m not going to succumb to what the green man wants.”

Techno could feel his father staring into the back of his head, and he rolled his shoulders to try and loosen himself up. He was tense now, thinking about all the things the newfound god had done to everyone. Dream was the reason Techno was like this, the reason Mr. Talbot Minsot turned into Mr. Techno Blade, the fearful beast of L’Manburg. Cursing Techno was one of the best and worst ideas Dream had ever had. 

Dream killed Sulliphira, goddess of an artifact called Wither’s Heart, who also happened to be Techno’s divine patron. All the other followers of Sulliphire fled at her demise, but Techno was determined to follow the way of the Wither’s Heart and stuck around with Dream in her place. There was a strong alliance between Dream and his lowly follower at first, but Dream wasn’t a fan of Talbot’s need to fight with his fists. He was a warlock first and foremost, and when Dream learned his followers wanted to leave behind the life of a warlock to become a monk he became enraged. Talbot was allowed to learn the ways of fighting with his fists and willpower, but Dream needed something in return….. Dream needed his humanity. 

The pig-man, Techno Blade, averted his eyes from his father. That was a complex question. He always wanted Phil to be home, and despite always seeming like a lone wolf Techno truly loved his father and the comforting presence the man brought to the secluded cottage Techno called home. That wasn’t it this time however, this time the answer was influenced by another force. In Techno’s cottage sat one Torrian Minsot, the youngest of the Minsot brothers. His torn clothes and dirty hair covered by a scratchy brown blanket Techno managed to rummage up from the top shelf of an old cabinet. 

“Tommy’s been living in a hole under my floorboards”

Phil looked up from his word, eyes narrowed “Whot?”

The silence that followed was overwhelming, and Technoblade jerked his right arm back towards him mid-wrap. He stood from the armchair and his father did the same, the pig creature’s almost seven-foot-tall statue loomed over the much shorter man. 

The city was beautiful during the night, but the sunset was always Techno’s favorite. The water below the long wooden floorboards and pillars holding up the city sparkled between the cracks in between the planks, the sun hitting them in such a way they would be blinding if any more beautiful. Planks of spruce and oak trees were built up into stalls for market workers to sell goods, houses were built against the back of the old wall, and up a small hill and a set of stairs sat the presidential podium, the great crane, and the homes of the Cabinet members. Techno knew this place more than he could put into words. He had never even lived in the city before, but sneaking around a dictator's empire during the middle of war helped him gain an understanding of the land; even though half of it had been turned into a crater by the end of the war. 

From the city came music. Techno couldn't see the figures of where it came from, but he already knew from who it would originate. He was right of course, the calm strumming of the guitar and the hushed vocals came from Wilbur’s Music Stall. The strumming was from Niki, a family friend of the Minsot brothers. The vocals came from a mixture of her and Wilbur Minsot, Techno’s twin brothers, and the man who turned this beautiful city into a crater those many months ago. 

Techno walked in front of his father, his footsteps quiet and movements slow as he led Phil away from the city and out into the forest. They walked in the quiet for a long time, the only sound the two heard being the occasional caw of a flying bird or a twig snapping under the weight of Phil’s boots. Ahead of them on the shore of the land was a small oak boat, with two worn down paddle’s sticking the boat into the sand. Phil finally broke the silence between them. 

“Do you want me to row?” He asked.

Techno shook his head at the question “I’ll do it” 

The pig-man picked both the paddles out of the sand with one fist, and lightly kicked the boat into the shallow water. He held out a free hand splayed towards the boat, and Phil followed his son’s silent command to enter the boat. Rocking to one side, Phil managed to struggle into the small boat and Techno followed behind. Stabilizing his body with one of the paddles, Techno managed to step onto the boat’s front seat one foot at a time and then move his feet to the floor. Once in the boat Techno pulled the paddle in and set them up to begin rowing out towards the snowy arctic. 

Another silence formed between the two, before once again being broken by Phil. 

“Are you afraid?”  
“What?”

The question didn't make sense in Techno’s mind. He was never afraid, or at least he wasn't as far as he knew. Techno stopped paddling, turning his head to look an eye into Phil’s. 

“Of Dream?”

That question made sense. It was an honest question, and it wasn't surprising that Phil was curious after seeing Techno today. 

“No... no no no. He doesn't scare me. He can do what he wants to me, I’m not going to succumb to what the green man wants.”

Techno could feel his father staring into the back of his head, and he rolled his shoulders to try and loosen himself up. He was tense now, thinking about all the things the newfound god had done to everyone. Dream was the reason Techno was like this, the reason Mr. Talbot Minsot turned into Mr. Techno Blade, the fearful beast of L’Manburg. Cursing Techno was one of the best and worst ideas Dream had ever had. 

Dream killed Sulliphira, goddess of an artifact called Wither’s Heart, who also happened to be Techno’s divine patron. All the other followers of Sulliphire fled at her demise, but Techno was determined to follow the way of the Wither’s Heart and stuck around with Dream in her place. There was a strong alliance between Dream and his lowly follower at first, but Dream wasn’t a fan of Talbot’s need to fight with his fists. He was a warlock first and foremost, and when Dream learned his followers wanted to leave behind the life of a warlock to become a monk he became enraged. Talbot was allowed to learn the ways of fighting with his fists and willpower, but Dream needed something in return….. Dream needed his humanity.


	2. {TWO] The Scab

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They've made it back home, and Techno was right. Tommy is there, sipping on some dull hot chocolate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM... this one broke me y'all but it's okay because the next chapter only gets MORE ANGST (: 
> 
> anyways I've been working on this for a few days straight and its like 9 pages in my google doc so you know I'm very attached to this chapter!!! I hope I worked with Tommy's personality well though to be believable.

Something about the chill of the arctic plains was comforting to him. The air was much different than in the grasslands, it was crisper and clearer (which was funny, considering the chimney smoke rising above his head at that moment) than where he had been living. The cottage was a comforting change of pace from his white wool tent and sad fence of planks enclosing a worn down clay house. He was appreciative of the clay house, of course, Wilbur had made it just for him, but Tommy simply didn't want it. What he wanted was to go back to L’manburg, to go back to his towers, his house, and most importantly his Tubbo. 

He held the compass close to his chest, taking in a deep breath. The cold air entered his lungs and exhaled in a chill puff of visible air, causing Tommy to chuckle lightly at the image.

He clenched his body around a dark brown blanket, the fabric uncomfortable scratching at his skin in a way that made him immediately have to itch after. Itching, shivering, and sipping on his poorly made hot cocoa managed to distract him from the approaching men, making the young man yell and jump as his father called out his name from the treeline 

Techno and Phil approached the cottage, Phil much quicker than his oldest son did. Practically running up the steps the father extended his arms out towards his baby boy. 

“Torrian!” Phil yelled, gaining a hateful glare from Tommy and a loud chuckle from Techno  
Tommy took the hug begrudgingly, his arms trapped flat to his sides and eyes averted from either of the older men. Techno simply ignored the affection, passing the two and turning the corner to open the door and enter his cottage. After a few seconds of the hug, Tommy wiggled his way out, pushing Phil away with a strong shove. There was obviously hurt and confusion in the older man’s body language and a strong stutter in his voice as he spoke. 

“I.. I’m gonna go put my stuff down kiddo, I’ll be back out,” Phil uttered quietly, bringing up his left hand and lightly noogying the top of Tommy's head as he pulled away and turned the corner through the doors into the cottage. 

He was quiet, breath caught in his throat as he gasped for air. The feeling was overwhelming. Tommy wasn’t a quiet soul, everyone who had even met the young man knew something was wrong when the boy was quiet. For what seemed like the first time in his life, Tommy was dead silent. With a quick movement, he shot up from his chair, almost knocking over the hot chocolate he had set down on the top of a flat handrail as he grasped for something to help raise him up. Tommy jumped down the stairs and took off running, the snow under his feet almost taking him out as his broken sneakers under him slid against the fresh fall. Air coming back to his lungs he took a deep breath. Dashing off into the woods, the itchy brown blankety fell from the boy’s shoulders and down into the thick snow. Snow flew from under his feet as he fled, looking behind him every few moments to make sure nobody was behind him. This was all too overwhelming. 

Running for a few minutes, he made it at about the middle point between the arctic cottage and a small village over the mountainous hills to the north of Techno’s front door. This wasn’t what Tommy wanted from coming to his big brother’s house. He didn't want to face his problems, he simply wanted a place where he could go to escape from Dream even for a little while. Tommy wasn’t ready for the mental baggage wrapped up in his brain to be unfurled by his intermeddling father. The forest was full of peace and quiet for a few minutes before the snap of twigs and the crunching of snow could be heard. 

“You’re a shit rouge.” Called out Phil from the forest, his stance tall and proud as he stood about 50 yards from Tommy, who was crouched behind a tree.

His father was dressed down from his usually bulky paladin armor and was now dressed in a black romper covered in a light blue gown. His gown was ordained with gems and trinkets that held the piece around him, and a bulky red scarf was wrapped around his neck. Despite the lack of flashy armor, something about this Phil was terrifying to Tommy. 

“I don't want to talk to you.” Tommy snapped, breaking his ‘cover’ from behind the tree to turn and face Phil. In a single hand, Tommy clenched a long, shiny black sword, his hand clamped against the handle so firmly it looked as though he was about to stab through his fingers with his own strength. His hand was shaking madly, and with a weak swing, Tommy stabbed the blade into the ground. It stood for a moment before crashing against the rocks and dirt hidden below the snow

“To-” Phil began...

“You never even visited me once Phil! Once!” He yelled out, cutting off his father's word. The yell scared off the local birds, the figures cawing loudly as they flew overhead. “Then you just show up!? Yelling all Torrian and shit? it's Tommy! God, You don't even know me!” Tommy began to rant 

Phil reached out a hand towards his son, a breath caught in his throat for a moment before his words could escape “Y... Your clothes... Tommy…”

“Yeah! I look like shite! I got fuckin exiled and shit!” Doing a full 180 in place he began to walk away from Phil, who of course began to follow him at the same pace “Dream’s my only friend in this world, he’s the only one who bothered to try and visit me beside the stupid ghost, and now even he might not be my friend!” He suddenly stopped walking. Small tears were forming in the corners of his eyes before being quickly wiped away. Tommy jumped back at his own touch as his wrist, the arctic air chilling the bare skin icy cold. Of course, he was shivering in Phil’s eyes, but Tommy didn't feel cold aside from that one touch. The anger he felt kept his body feeling red hot.

“You’re freezing cold Tommy, come back home. We can talk about this there, okay?” He approached Tommy, removing the thick red scarf from his own neck and wrapping it around his son’s neck. Phil softly touched Tommy’s shoulder, the young man immediately pulled away from his father’s touch and turned around to face him. 

“Don't do that” He said quietly, tugging around at the scarf that was now around his neck. Snatching his sword from the ground quickly, Tommy walked past his father and headed back towards the cottage, the only words he said being hushed cursed as he continued to fix the fabric wrapped around him. 

Walking in silence was a pattern in the Minsot family. Tommy had always liked to sneak up behind his brothers as a kid, Phil had always teased him that his love of sneaking on the twins was what fueled his studies as a rogue. Tommy never agreed; always saying that being a rouge over anything else was of his own free will and that he could “do anything he wanted”. Phil was only about a yard behind Tommy as they walked back to the cottage, but the only sounds either of them made being the eerie crunch of snow under their heels made Phil feel as though he was lightyears away. All he wanted to do was reach out and hold Tommy in his arms, but the boy obviously didn't like that. Something had happened to him, something that Phil couldn't yet wrap his head around. Of course, the exile was hard on Tommy, but this? He did not know how to approach it. 

As they broke through the treeline, Techno looked up from where he was crouched down on one knee in the field of snow. He was picking up the scratchy blanket Tommy had flung him his body in his mad dash to escape everything. Coming back onto two feet he held out the blanket towards Tommy as the boy approached; he took the blanket from Techno without even looking at him. 

“Thanks” He spoke, hushed and angry. If it wasn’t for his overwhelming feelings, he’d probably have snapped at Techno for ‘pitying’ him. 

Phil reached up and gave Techno a light pat on his left shoulder as he walked back, beckoning for the pig-man to follow his father into the cottage. Phil winced backward as Tommy speedily walked up the steps into the cottage and slammed the heavy spruce door behind him. 

Stopping in his tracks, Phil turned his head to look up at Techno as the man came side to side with him. “What the hell happened?”

Techno met Phil’s eye contact before looking away quickly “He doesn't even know, Phil, do I think I know?”

The scowl of annoyance on his father’s face told Techno everything he needed to know, and he gave a final shrug before moving fast Phil and up the steps into his house.

Techno’s little cottage was truly a beautiful building. The back wall across from the front door was a stone and wood kitchen, which had previously been very neat before the arrival of his little brother, who seemed to have an issue with picking up after himself. On the left side of the house were all of Techno’s building tools. He definitely wasn’t an artificer and much less an inventor, but he created all his armor and weapons with his own two hands, so of course, they were handy tools. Upon entering the house Techno took a turn to the left and climbed up a short ladder, peeking his head through the 2nd floor’s floorboards. He reached upward with a single arm and clicked on a faint lamp, which illuminated nothing out of the ordinary. The top floor of his house was a small bedroom that peaked at the top to create the frame of his roof. The room itself was neat, with his bed sheet tucked neatly beneath the pillows and his back wall of bookshelves being organized by alphabetical order. This small bedroom was the only thing Techno got to himself anymore. 

Tommy wasn't there, of course. He may be a bit mentally unstable, but he wouldn't dare invade his brother’s safe space. Techno peaked his head down and shook a quick ‘no’ motion to Phil, who was stomping his snowy boots on the ‘unwelcome, go away’ mat right outside of the front door. He nodded back, speeding up his stomping before heading off towards another ladder on the small first floor of the cottage. The blonde man climbed down, his feet quickly hitting the cold stone floors of Techno’s first basement, which had only recently been turned into a small living space. The room contained even more storage space and cabinets than the kitchen did, and to the far side of the room were two large couches made of oak wood and wool-soft cushioning. Techno and Phil had spent countless long nights down on these couches, playing cards or talking about how life had screwed over their family. This room, unsurprisingly, didn’t contain Tommy either. 

Phil already knew where Tommy was though of course. Quiet as a mouse, Phil stepped across the room and down a small set of stairs, which were of course jaunty and unevenly built. He softly knocked against the wall as he entered another room. The yellow walls of this room were so very unevenly painted and were covered in signs, small “notes to self”, messy scribble drawings, and a few dirty photos of friends and enemies that were definitely well-aged and well-loved. This room did indeed contain one Torrian Minsot, who had wrapped himself in a blanket and was staring blankly at the wall across from his bed. 

“I’d ask if I could come in, but I already know the answer I'd get.’ Phil mocked, chuckling weakly at his own joke. Taking a seat at the bottom of his stairs, Phil reached out and grabbed a crumpled piece of paper that was wadded up on the floor. Unwrapping it revealed dirt and grime, coal smudges and dirt smudges littering the paper, and text had definitely been water damaged at some point along its seemingly short life. 

Phil silently read the words, the messy handwriting was hard to read at first but the repetition of the phrase on the paper made more sense as he continued to read the phrase. 

‘He was only here to watch me  
He was only here to watch me  
He was only here to watch me  
He was only here to watch me  
He was only here to watch me’

Tommy glanced over to Phil as the older man read the note, cocking an eyebrow at his father’s worried expression. 

“What’s this Tor?” He held out the piece of paper to Tommy, who immediately reached out and snatched it from Phil’s hands and began to quietly read it out. 

He stopped reading after the first few words, immediately crumpling it back up and violently throwing it at the wall across from his bed. The paper lightly thumped against the stone before smacking the floor and rolling back towards the two. 

“He was only there to watch me” Tommy repeated the words from his note, and now it was Phil’s turn to question him. 

“Who?” 

“Dream.”

He quickly gripped against the blankets and pulled them back up to his shoulders, shaking his head in annoyance and anger. “I don't want to think about him. No, no, no. I don't know how to think of him, ya’know?”

Phil removed his hat, holding it in front of him with both hands and lightly spinning the object in his hands as something to fidget with “No, I don't actually. What happened to Dream?”

“Oh, it was horrible Phil, just mighty horrible. He was the only one to visit me, did I say that already? I tried to plan a party and nobody showed up. He was... Is.. my friend.” Tommy was visibly uncomfortable, but the silence in the room that followed his pauses was even more uncomfortable, so he continued. “But.. He’s a god ya’know? I was afraid of him and rightfully so I think!” Tommy smacking his bed with his fist as he spoke. He was getting passionate about this, so the hand movements were starting to come out. “So I started hiding my good things from him since he always made me give him all my good stuff and then he’d destroy it... He found it.”

Phil held out a splayed hand, motioning for Tommy to pause his story for a moment “You hid shit from a god?” 

Tommy laughed loudly at that, but his laugh quickly fizzled out as he tried to get back to his story “H- He.. uh…. He destroyed it all.” Small tears were welling up in the corners of his eyes again, but he didn't motion to wipe them away this time. These tears were not from his anger but from his anguish. “He destroyed the little house Wil made me, he destroyed my tent, he destroyed the walls around my place. He said.. that phrase to me. It's true though, he was only there to watch me.”

He barked out a dry cough, trying his best to wipe the tears with his blanket now. “Can you uh... Get me a water?” He laughed, very obviously trying to push back the emotions. 

Phil immediately followed along, getting up from where he was sitting “Do you have any in here?” Tommy nodded at his question, and Phil immediately began to search. Now that his father’s eyes were not burning into his skin, Tommy continued onto the worst part of his story. “I uh…. I climbed up really high and... It was almost the end of good ol’ Torrian.” 

Phil immediately whipped around at this. Not exactly at the very obvious indication of his son’s almost self-demine... But the name Torrian. Tommy never used his full name, not even when being proper. There had been countless times Phil had to scold him for simply saying Tommy when introducing himself to professionals. Phil couldn't think of a time he had heard his son, or any of his sons for that matter, use their full first names since they had first learned them as children. Talbot, Willoughby, and Torrian were proper names, but as the boys got older these names simply shifted to Techno, Wilbur, and Tommy. To hear Tommy refer to himself was Torrian wasn’t right

“Tommy….”

For the first time in a long time, hearing his father use the right name for him felt right, it didn't feel like a sad excuse to conform to what his son expected of him. Tommy didn't respond though, he simply stared into Phil’s eyes as the man looked back at him. Rushing over to the bed, Phil quickly held out his arms and scooted onto the bed. For the first time since his exile, Tommy embraced the touch of his father, scooting over to fall into his father’s body and hold against him. He sniffled hard, trying to suck the tears and snot back into his head. 

“I miss Tubbo…”  
“I know, kid.”


	3. [THREE] Wish Sticks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back in L'Manburg, Tubio Schlatt deals with feelings and guilt over his life as of recent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY big note: the festival in this is disconnected from the plot from the smp relating back to the Butcher Army, as in this AU the butcher army situation never happened! The Festival is just an average festival for the citizins to interact (:
> 
> also I've realized that the name "Tubio" just looks like a misspelling of "Tubbo", but I'd also like to clear up before you read that this isnt a typo; his name legally is Tubio, but he chooses to not use this name and doesn't like when others use it. 
> 
> not the biggest fan of this chapter, but it's here!

Sunlight illuminated from behind the hills and cliffaces of the city, shining its powerful light onto the backside of two stones. One of these stones was large and engraved in large words

‘Willoughby Minsot  
Loving Father and Son’

This grave was pristine, and surrounded in flowers and shiny rocks. To the right of Mr Minsot’s grave was another grave. It wasn’t much of a grave though, but instead an unmarked large rock with a few wilting flowers around it’s base. 

Between the two graves sat a boy, his fuzzy brown goat ears lowerd and his horns mostly covered by his thick head of hair. The grave may not have been marked, but the boy knew who exactly it was. It belonged to his father, Jhan-yeil Schlatt, the previously dictator of the country his son now had to lead 

Tubbo sat on his knees, gripping a fresh white flower in his clamped hands. Either of these men deserved his offering. Wilbur had been his friend since he was little and felt like a big brother to Tubbo, but he’s the reason Tubbo’s country is now held up by wooden beams. Wilbur went crazy and betrayed everybody who stood up for and trusted him..

But the other option wasn’t much better.

The memories of the horrible day whipped through his mind once again, and he felt as though he was really there. He remembered the way Tommy gripped onto his hand, sweaty with anxiety as he watched his best friend’s father and his own enemy collapse onto the floor. His father didnt even look at him, he was too preoccupied yelling at Fundzeil, Wilbur’s son and the biggest traitor of Schlatt’s cabinet. Everyone Tubbo had ever known was there watching as Jhan-yeil Schlatt’s mental state was consumed by rage and controlled by his love for alcohol. 

Yet, the world was cold at President Schlatt’s death. Tubbo’s body was ice cold as he looked at his father’s fallen corpse on the floor of a poorly constructed safety bunker. In most cases of overwhelming emotion Tubbo’s wild magic would have shot off its course, but for the first time in his life there was no wild magic formed from his feelings; he simply did not have the energy. He’d followed everybody outside of the bunker and out towards the main stage of the city to deal with the lack of a president. With ringing in his ears Tubbo would be pushed onto stage. He had not even listened to the speeches made by Wilbur and then Tommy. It was a no brainer to accept the presidency of course. Despite it all, Tubbo could remember to looks of apprehension on the face of his citizen as he accepted the new position of power. They had moved from one Schlatt to another. 

…  
…   
…  
“TUBIO SCHLATT, YOU ARE PRESIDENT OF A CRATER!”

He couldnt remember what preceded the call from Wilbur, but as he opened his eyes the city was indeed a crater in the ground, and as Tubbo looked up he could see Willoughby Minsot, a big brother in his eyes, standing in hole. Behind him was Phinehas Minsot, Tubbo’s father when Schlatt wasn’t around to be much of one. 

Tubbo finally pushed himself up from where he was slumped over in front of the graves, his hands planted firmly on the grass to keep him from falling over completely. He refused to let himself remember watching Wilbur’s death over again in his mind. He had worked so hard to push away the bad memories of a time during the Manburg era. He didnt plan to stop now. Tubbo pulled the white flower up towards him until it was right in the middle of his view, and with one firm grasp he crushed it under his fingers. 

“Neither of them deserve it.” He spoke out loud quietly.

Getting his feet he looked down at the graves with a hurtful glare before beginning to walk away. He took a sharp left turn out of the fences in plot and onto the Prime Path, a long dirt and wooden road that connected all the neighboring towns, cities, and individual residences. Along the leftmost edge of the Prime Path was the residence of Tommy, the house was badly damaged and had obviously been looted by the less fortunate in the area. Tubbo stopped where he was as the house was parallel with his body on the path, and he turned to look at it. As much as he wanted to take a step forward and relive the memories he’d had in that house, he couldn’t mentally handle it. He had barely even processed Tommy’s death yet as he tried to put his work before his overwhelming greif. 

With the firm shake of his head and a squeeze of a closed fist he forced himself away from the house and back on the path towards the city. He stuck his hands into his pants pockets and pulled out some pieces of thick paper covered in dry inked words. It was almost time for the L’Manburg Festival, a winter celebration of the city’s unity and peace since the era of Manburg was over. As president, Tubbo was expected to make a speech. He brought up a free hand to his face, feeling along the scars shallow of sparks littered along the right widening his face from the incident that took place in the last festival. As the wood under his shoes transitioned from being stabilized by the ground under it to then being held over the water with stilts, he felt as though he was home. Something about the new era of L’Manburg was comforting to him. It was a different place than the Manburg where he was trapped under the Schlatt Administration. The sounds of small tides crashing against the thick wooden pillars holding the city above the water-filled crater in the ground were always calming to Tubbo; even though they made him a bit seasick at times. 

“Hey!! Tubbo!” Called a ghostly figure from across the town. He was sitting on the wooden counters of his Music Stand in the middle of the town’s marketplace leaned against a think wooden pole with a guitar in his grasp. 

Putting on a false smile, Tubbo waved back at him silently as he approached. 

“Do you want to play a song with me? Niki had to leave for Drywaters before it got dark..” The ghost man frowned. Nobody was actually sure who had brought him back from the dead; many assumed it was Niki, which with his highly skilled cleric training would probably be able to do such a thing. This theory was definitely supported by their close friendship and it was obvious he was sad that she had to go back home.

Tubbo turned the notecards he was still holding to face towards the man “Sorry Wil, I have to practice for the festival”

“Oh! Can I help you? I can be your audience!” Wilbur smiled wildly, quickly jumping up from where he sat on the counters. As his ghostly feet hit the floor he sunk down a bit, the wisps from his figure squeezing through the empty space between planks of wood. 

Tubbo smiled for real this time, laughing lightly “Sure”

He beckoned for Wilbur to follow him and the two walked past the music stand and un the stairs in the back right corner of the marketplace. Directly up the stairs was a raised platform built into the wall, where a tall wooden podium was bolted into the floor. Wilbur split off from Tubbo and took a seat in one of the many chair that surrounded the podium. 

Under the podium was a wooden block for Tubbo to use a a stepstool. Why they made this thing so tall he would never understand, He pulled out the block, positioned it where it needed to be, and they stood on it so he could comfortably rest his wrists against the wood. 

With a shaky hand he began to read from the paper, looking over to Wilbut before he got too far. “I actually don't know if I’ve got my timing right.. Can you like.. Clap when it seems like there's a pause for that?”

Wilbur gave a big nod, a thumbs up, and a cheery smile at the question asked of him. Tubbo nodded back. 

“Welcome to the L’Manburg Festival everybody! As you’ve probably seen we’ve got free to play games set up in the Marketplace for everybody.”

Wilbur began to clap wildly and Tubbo shook his head “Did that actually sound like a time for clapping?” 

“I dont know, but you paused and I like to praise you!” 

Tubbo sighed, looking back at the notecards. He recited the previous statement quietly to try and find his place again. He suddenly spoke up as he found his new words. “Up in the houses we have food set up as a thank you for you all being here. We’ll all regroup in about an hour to say thanks for the people who have made our city as great as it is.. Let the festival…….” Tubbo paused. The last time he said something like this, he was trapped by his father and assasinated by a man he saw as a big brother. He took a deep breathe 

“Let the festival commence!” 

Wilbur began to clap, and from behind Tubbo came another set of clapping. 

As claws of cold stone wrapping onto his shoulder, Tubbo’s blood ran icy cold. He already knew who was behind him, but the feeling of those claws on his shoulder had always terrified Tubbo. 

“A festival, ay?” The green figure uttered  
“Yes!”

He moved around Tubbo from the right side of the boy’s body, his claw-like hands being removed from his shoulders as he passed. He was dressed in a thick green colorblock sweater, grey-green pants that cropped above his digitigrade legs that drew to a black pointed edge where his toes should be. 

“How do you feel about me inviting everyone, do you think the SMP KIngdom would come to a festival in a place like L’Manburg?” 

The green man, the one they called Dream, turned his head to look at the young man. Although it was hard to tell behind the emotionless void of a white mask he wore on his face at all time, in his brain he was smiling widely. 

“Yes, yes! Invite everybody.. Invite the king, invite the Badland, invite Drywaters, invite Rutebagaville, hell invite Mr. Blade!” 

Tubbo looked past the green man, his eyes rested on Wilbur, who was smiling at Dream’s words

“Oh yes! I’m sure they’d all adore the festival” 

A prick on anxiety clung to Tubbo’s body at WIlbur’s words. He didnt like the idea of inviting everybody, but Dream knew best, right? He looked towards Dream for guidance. The man was a god; he held more answers and wisdom than Tubbo could imagine

“Ghostbur, could you to fetch a book for me? I think it started with… hm. I dont remember, but it was about the kingdom. I’m sure you have it.” Dream stood over the ghostly man, who happy nodded at the request and sprung up from his chair 

“I’m sure I’ve got it, I’ll get it for you Dream!” 

Wilbur headed up a set of stairs directly above the stairs onto the Presidential Platform, and turned the corner towards the Great Crane which his home rested under. Dream didnt take Wilbur’s seat as he left, and instead continued to stand. His blank eyes looked directly at Tubbo, who stared back into the white mask. 

“I need you to invite everybody. That wasn’t a suggestion.” Dream snapped at Tubbo, his voice gruff and tinted with annoyance 

“Is that.. A good idea? If people are starting to drift from the city than he should let them go..” Tubbo averted his eyes as he shrugged, idley kicking his foot against the podium. The prick on anxiety clung to his body was right.

“That's exactly why we need everybody. They’re starting to doubt you, me, Tubio.” Dream moved closer to grip onto both sides of the podium with his respective hands “If you haven't got them here tomorrow, and back to trusting our leadership.. then the wall will go back up.”

Tubbo was frozen in shock and in horror. Dream promised peace between the city and the rest of the world if Tubbo was to exile Tommy, his right hand man.. And now Tommy was dead and Dream was to go back on his promise? He wobbled backwards in his place, having to suddenly reach forward and grip onto the podium to steady himself

With a slight chuckle, Dream ungripped his claws from the podium and slipped them back to his body, crossing his arms “Good talk.” He nodded slightly, and with the snap of his fingers; Dream had disappeared. 

Thoughts rushed through the young president’s mind as the god snapped his fingers and disappeared. He left an awful feeling of dread in the air, and from this feeling of dread Tubbo began to softly cry. For the longest time, Tubbo wanted to believe Dream was on his side. To piss off a god was one way to insure the desolation of your country. Yet, Dream never seemed to be on any side other than his own. It made sense of course, a god doesnt need friends; a god needs power. Tubbo could never forgive Dream for making him choose between his best friend and his nation, because of course Tubbo would choose to save the nation of multiple than the party of one; yet now Tommy was dead by his own accord. Tubbo didn't know what happened after Dream had taken Tommy away from the city, only that the mental torment must have been too much for Tommy to bear. 

Tubbo didn't trust Dream, not fully at least, but despite all the great ideas he’d had in life.. he couldn't think of a way to handle this other than to follow orders. Dream had taken away Tommy, but Dream couldnt take away L’Manbug.


End file.
